Astoreth does Ferelden Part 16: Painting Denerim Red
by Natmonkey
Summary: Follow Astoreth as she traipses through Ferelden and shares her thoughts and wonders. In this instalment: our heroine and the lady adventurers get ready for a well-deserved night out on the town. The Landsmeet will have to wait.
1. Steely Blue Eyes

_I wish I had a good reason to explain my long absence. I really do. Sadly, I have no such reason, except for feeling shitty enough not to want to do anything. However, I said I would finish this and so I will. Even if it takes forever._

* * *

"For the moment, the advantage is ours," Arl Eamon explains as he guides us into his estate. "Loghain will have little choice but to oppose us directly." Alistair and I both nod understandingly at his words, but I'm sure that his thoughts are elsewhere. Just like mine. Landsmeet, Schmandsmeet, I just want to get to a room and have a good night's sleep. After some choice lovemaking, of course. But with whom? Hee... "He will strike back at us, but how soon?" Oh, dear. Visitors. My heart sinks, and the arl seems taken aback as well. His eyes widen visibly. "Loghain. This is... an honour, that the regent himself would find time to greet me personally."

The regent is wearing his typically dour expression, an imposing figure in his silverite armour. Even with everything - the dead Wardens, our dead king and all the assassins he has sent after us - I can't really bring myself to hate him. The Blight is what we must focus on. Mainly, that is. "How could I not welcome a man so important as to call every lord in Ferelden away from his estates while a Blight claws at our land?" the man says, a purposeful undertone of sarcasm to his voice.

"The Blight is why I'm here." Eamon has regained his calm. "With Cailan dead, Ferelden _must_ have a king to lead it against the darkspawn." From the corner of my eye, I can see my fellow Warden cringing. Poor thing, all this pressure. I hope it won't make him crack. His hand blindly fumbles for mine, holding it in a firm grip.

"Ferelden _has_ a strong leader: its queen," Loghain remonstrates, his eyes narrowed. "And I lead her armies." If things had happened differently, I would have had faith in that. I know enough of history; Loghain Mac Tir was instrumental in conquering the country back from the Orlesians. But the darkspawn are no ordinary opponent. The steely blue eyes of the once trusted general dismiss Arl Eamon and fix on me instead. I am literally shaking in my boots under his gaze. "Hm, the Grey Warden recruit." The other Grey Warden is completely ignored. "You have my sympathies on what happened to your order. It is unfortunate they chose to turn against Ferelden."

While Alistair turns red as a beetroot with barely suppressed rage and nearly squeezes my poor little hand into a pulp, I reply: "Oh, don't you give me that nonsense. When are we going to start this damned Landsmeet?"

"Don't interrupt, churl," the previously quiet woman at the regent's side says, right out of the damned blue. "Your betters are talking." I don't think I've ever been spoken to before with such arrogance. Dislike at first sight.

"Relax, lady, your master was obviously pausing for me to say something." I grit my teeth. "Truly, regent Loghain, you ought to train your dogs better. Mine at least knows how to behave properly." Stubbs gives a delighted little wuff at my affectionate pat on his head. Good boy.

The woman's hand flies to the hilt of her large sword, her face contorting with anger. "Why, _you_-..." Like a good dog, she stands down when Loghain tells her to. The grey-haired older gent at his other side says nothing; he just looks at the both of us and grins. Man, he's creepy. And not exactly an oil painting. His face sends cold shivers down my spine. He looks worse than that guy who got his face burned with his first Fireball. Screaming, skin melting. I don't even want to imagine the pain.

This Cauthrien woman keeps sending me deadly looks during the further exchange of veiled threats between Arl Eamon and Teyrn Loghain. Maybe calling her a dog went a bit far, but she was out of line too. And here we have yet more talk of Alistair taking the throne and leading the country into victory against our good friends, the darkspawn. "Oh, is that all I have to do?" jokes the boy with his mouth forced into a strained smile. "No pressure..." There is plenty of pressure on my hand though, let me tell you. Ow. It's Goldanna all over again.

Loghain moves a step closer to Eamon, all commanding presence and hard stare. "The emperor of Orlais also thought I could not bring him down." So... Scary... I would probably wet myself if I were in the arl's shoes. "Expect no more mercy than I showed him. There is nothing I would not do for my homeland." With that, the regent and his companions turn on their heels and leave. That was frightening, to say the least. I can't help but wonder what that man would do, if he got his hands on us. It can't be anything pleasant. Pain comes to mind.

"Oh, dear." The arl releases a long breath. "That was certainly bracing. I didn't expect him to show himself quite so soon. To think that a man such as Loghain would do this..." Sadly shaking his head, the old man rubs his chin. "In any case, we must find the roots of all his schemes here in the city and turn them to our advantage." He shows Alistair and me a reserved smile. "Go have a look around, maybe even find the nobles who have arrived for the Landsmeet. See how many will support us. In the meantime, however, I believe you all deserve a rest." Upon a few snaps of his fingers, a pretty, dark-haired elven girl appears. "Nigella will show you to your rooms. Alistair, let us speak in my sitting room."

"Yes, arl Eamon," my fellow Warden mumbles obediently. Releasing my hand, he says: "I'll come find you later, all right?" I nod and watch the two men walk off. It's not difficult to figure out what they will be discussing.

Nigella curtsies politely. Her smile is to die for. "Welcome, dear guests. Please follow me..."


	2. Long Hot Soak

_Dear Guest: Thank you for your review. I'm glad you like the stories so far; you taking the time to leave your kind words here provides a much-needed boost to this old hack, who's apparently lost all of her readers. I would've posted this chapter last week, but I was in London and the internet at the hotel was ridiculously expensive. Thanks again and thank you to anyone who reads without commenting. _

* * *

Ah, now this is better. After that Loghain-related scare, I really needed a good, long soak in a hot bath. I'm surprised nobody else has opted to do this; there is plenty of room for a whole host of bathers in here. Although I'm not sure if I would want to share this tub with, let's say, Oghren. Ah, well. If it stays this way, I won't need to. This estate is huge. Wow. I'm not entirely sure whether to be happy or sad, because we can't get the Landsmeet over and done with yet, but at least we get to relax for now. Some kind of lead will no doubt turn up all on its own (things have a way of happening like that), so I myself am not too worried. How could I be? Bubbles, bubbles. You don't get that in the wilderness.

"Ah, here you are," an accented voice twitters excitedly. "Tonight is the night!" Leliana slips out of her towel and into the water. "Mmm, finally I am able to indulge in a hot bath." She sighs, eyes closed. It occurs to me that I had never seen her naked before. Not that I really have now; she was really quick and I wasn't really paying attention. But from what I managed to catch... Lovely. Nicely curved, not too thin. Those luscious lips of hers are still her crowning feature though, if you ask me. Draw the eye, they do. "Is there anything in particular you would like to shop for, my friend?"

I shrug. "I don't know. A cloak, I guess. It gets cold." That is really all I want. That, and a good time.

"Ever the practical one!" The bard lets out an attractive laugh. "Surely you want to try on a pair of high-heeled shoes, or find yourself a pretty piece of jewellery?" Idly unravelling the little braid in her hair, Leliana looks at me with expectancy in her eyes.

I hadn't thought of that. "Aren't those shoes really difficult to walk in?"

"Yes, but they are not really meant for walking long distances." Smiling impishly, she continues: "High heels change your gait, make you sway your hips to and fro, to maintain your balance. And that, as they say, brings the boys to the courtyard." For a moment Leliana vanishes under the sudsy water, to emerge with her short red locks plastered to her head. "I myself am dying to buy a frock and matching shoes for when we celebrate the archdemon's demise." Her pretty face takes on a dreamy expression. "Ah, I shall write ballads of our mighty Grey Wardens, stemming the tide of battle, crushing the darkspawn under their heel, mage and warrior, standing together, unified."

"And what of our intrepid comrades?" You would think that Alistair and I were doing everything by ourselves. "We would be nowhere without all of you, Leliana."

A blush colours her cheeks red. "You are too kind. Then I shall also sing of our companions, brave and dedicated." Giggle. "The big, tough Qunari, who secretly has a soft spot for cookies and kittens!"

Ha! It's funny, because it's true. "Shall I let you in on a little secret?"

"Hmmm..." She smiles in a conspiratorial manner. "Yes, please do."

"The other day, when Oghren returned from his quest for booty, it turned out that he'd also gone to the Circle to speak with Jowan." I shake my head. "Nosy little rascal wanted to see a Tranquil for himself. Anyway, Jowan gave him a letter for me, I read it, and I got so sad, I couldn't hold back my tears." Leliana clicks her tongue and lays her hand on my arm. "Thank you. Sten found me, and, get this... Guess what he did?"

"Logically speaking, I would say that he lectured you about controlling your emotions." Her features tighten into a serious expression as she mimics the Qunari's voice: "_Kadan_, you are a grown woman. Crying is for children! You must keep yourself together!"

This warrants a bit of applause. "Nice, Leliana, that was good!" I laugh at het exaggerated bow. "But no, he didn't. He just cradled me in his arms and told me that everything was going to be all right."

"You know, if I had not seen for myself how he plays with Schmooples when he thinks I'm not looking, I would not have believed you." The bard's voluptuous lips stretch into a fond smile. "He must really like you, for him to show you his tender side." A hint of naughtiness creeps into her smile. "Speaking of tender sides, has Morrigan gotten her wish yet? To bed Sten?"

"Unless she has finally managed to seduce him in the past three days, then no." I wonder how serious Morrigan is about it. What if Sten were to suddenly barge into her tent or room and have his way with her? Hm. That might be interesting. I can hear the witch moaning already. Great, now I'm fantasizing about other people doing it. "Why, are you also curious as to how Qunari do the deed?"

Leliana chuckles. "Of course. I know nothing of it and I am very curious by nature." She looks at her hands in disdain. "This is enough soaking for me, I am beginning to resemble a wrinkled prune fruit." Leisurely she climbs out of the tub and begins towelling herself off. Now we have a nice view. Endless legs, round hips that taper into a little waist, breasts that make me want to bury my face between them... I would love to trace all of her scars with my tongue. My naughty thoughts about other women have become more open lately. So what if I'm like this? Big deal. I'm not hurting anybody with my sexual preferences, or lack thereof. Promiscuity and magical talent go hand in hand, don't you know. "Remember to moisturise your skin well after this, Astoreth," the Orlesian beauty advises. "You might turn into leather, if you forego it. Are we going out after dinner?" Her eyes are sparkling with anticipation.

"Yes, after dinner is a good time to go. See you then." Oh, wow. _Someone_ doesn't need to wear high heels to sway her hips all sexy-like. Mmm, nice. Incidentally, I wonder what's for dinner. I'm looking forward to dessert; it's been a while since I tasted something really sweet. And that brings me back to Leliana. What would she taste like? Ooh, what would Morrigan taste like? They both look really yummy. I doubt anything erotic will ever come to pass between us, but hope springs eternal. Expanding the old horizon is a very good thing to do. Here are the wrinkles. That means I should get out of here. Good. I'm calm, collected and ready to have a good time with the girls. First I need to get to my room and get dressed though. Glad my room isn't very far from here; I'm just one small towel away from butt-ass-naked.

Look who we have here. "Why, hello, Warden." Zevran, out of his armour and with a towel slung over his shoulder, looks me up and down. "Are you done with your bath?" He sighs. "Such a shame."

"Hi Zev." This brings back memories. It seems ages ago, that I'd exited the washroom of Castle Redcliffe and run into him. This time, his lustful stares don't bother me in the least. "Had I known you'd be joining me, I would have waited."

"It was not meant to be…" The assassin steps closer to me, smiling mischievously. "Do you remember that night I caught you after your bath, so long ago? You were very cruel to me then." His body is so close to mine that I can feel his warmth. "I am pleased that you have revised your opinion of me, _fiammina_." Softly Zevran brushes his lips against mine. "Very pleased."

Is it hot in here, or is it just me? "As am I, my friend. It's much better when we all get along." Just for show, I swat at the hand that creeps behind the folds of my towel. "You are so cheeky."

"Yes, and you love me for it." His tongue slips into my mouth, his trim body pushes my back against the wall. The knot in my towel comes undone; the only thing protecting me from exposure, is good old Zev. This is so bad. Heh. The good kind of bad. Just like the time Cullen picked me up to see Irving about my Harrowing. The thought of that makes me smile. As does the eager hand that slips between my thighs. "You like public places, don't you?" the elf whispers into my ear, coating his fingers in my wetness. Without warning of any kind, he spins me around. "I know what else you like."

"Mmm, Zevran, you spoil me." My back arches as he slides his hard cock into me, his pliant lips pressing little kisses to the back of my shoulder. I am enjoying myself silly here, but I won't allow myself to stop listening for footsteps. The thought of getting caught is sexy, actually getting caught probably is not. When did I ever get this practical?

The former Crow grabs himself two handfuls of breast. "Only because you deserve it, my dear." With his thumbs and forefingers plying my nipples, he fucks me at a fast pace. "And because I enjoy you so." One hand abandons my chest to play with my clit. It jumps against his skilful fingers. Wet sopping noises sound whenever he pounds into me, the pleasure of an impending climax pooling deep in my stomach.

But then… "Hey, do you hear that?" Someone is humming a cheerful tune. Someone who is coming this way. "Shit!"

Under an array of curses, Zev quickly makes himself decent and ties my towel for me at the same time. "How rude of them to disturb us." Smiling ruefully, he pinches my cheek. "I apologize for the frustration, _fiammina_." We exchange a brief hug. "I should go and do what I came here for, before somebody becomes suspicious."

"All right, see you at dinner."

"Until then." He winks and ambles into the washroom at his leisure. There is something about this secret affair that I really enjoy. His amazing skill in the bedroom and his sweet words are wonderful, but the secrecy is really the icing on this deliciously naughty cake. Ugh, this is frustrating. I was so close to coming too… Shame, shame. I will probably have to take care of myself. Unless somebody else is willing. We shall see.


	3. Hide Me

_Thanks again for the reviews!_

* * *

This room is lovely and spacious. My bed is so very, very comfortable. Just like my new bed at the tower once was. Sometimes I miss that place; usually I don't, though. Ah, the good life! I could get used to lounging around like this, not being wrapped tightly by corsets and all that. No minor headache from having my hair tied back so tightly. All I need now, is Collin. That would make this perfect, as opposed to just bloody good. And feeding him might ease the heaviness in my chest. I do feel glad that it is less heavy than before. Seems like I am running out of milk. What's all this ruckus down the hallway? Well, that'll teach me to think I would be enjoying a bit of peace and quiet for a change.

"I can't take this anymore!" His face indignant and angry, Alistair closes my door behind him and leans his back against it. "Arl Eamon won't shut up about me taking the throne, hide me!" Right. His dear uncle is truly relentless, isn't he?

Only a few moments later, a loud knock rattles the door. "Pardon me, Warden, but have you seen Alistair?" the offending nobleman speaks outside. "He just ran off, right in the middle of our talk."

"I'm sorry, my lord, I haven't." My reply pleases my fellow Warden greatly, judging by the way he animatedly mouths his thanks. "Try the kitchen; you know how he loves his cheese."

"Ah yes, thank you." His footsteps echo down the hall.

Al gives me a great big hug. "Thanks a million, I thought I'd never be rid of him." Shooing me out of the way, he immediately settles on my bed, his back against the many pillows. "Humph. First I have to endure those fucking indignities from Loghain about the Wardens turning on Ferelden," he spits angrily. "And now this crap from Arl Eamon. Let me tell you, it's like talking to a bloody trampoline: the same arguments over and over and over again!" Alistair folds his arms before his chest and stares into empty space. His brows are almost forming a unified, furrowed mass. "Queen Anora has been doing a great job so far, I say let _her_ stay on the throne."

My poor darling. He already has enough to worry about without being King Maric's illegitimate offspring. I straddle the boy's lap. "Come here, you. Try not to think about all that for a little while." Pulling him close, I let him rest his head against my chest. Slowly but surely, the tension in his body lessens.

"Your heartbeat is very soothing," the Warden muses. "I could just fall asleep listening to it." Maybe that would be for the best, so I opt to keep my mouth shut. Stroking his back and running my fingers through his hair. I could keep this up forever. Al abruptly looks up, smiling shyly. "Hey, Aster?"

"What is it, sweetie?"

A blush spreads across his face. "I like it when you call me that. But I wanted to say: thank you for always being there for me. No matter what I need." A deep, despondent sigh exits his throat. "And thank you for keeping your cool in there with Loghain, because I was just about to clock that... that traitorous son of a whore." He grunts in frustration. "That was mean, his mother can't help it." Once more he blows out an aggravated breath. "Damn that traitor."

"I'm glad you have such excellent control of yourself; I don't think breaking Loghain's jaw would have helped us much." I chuckle at the mental image. It would have been pretty amusing though.

"It's because of you." Alistair smiles up at me, affection in his eyes. "You are my focus. I..." He falls silent. "I just, well..." Awkward cough. "Thank you."

I kiss him on the lips. Mmm, a man this gorgeous could bring the coldest woman to her knees. Let alone a lusty individual like myself. "You're very welcome. And I should thank you as well." A bit more of the mushy stuff, before we move on to other things. "You could have easily discarded me as some cheap slut after I'd told you I was pregnant, but you didn't." _I will do anything I can to protect you and your baby._ Nobody else in our merry band is as close or dear to me. "You have always stood by me, and I will always stand by you."

"No matter what?" The look of boyish hopefulness on his face is so endearing, it brings tears to the corners of my eyes. "Promise?"

"Yes, no matter what, I promise." We fold each other in a warm, tight embrace. "I will stay with you, until you tell me to go away." If that ever happens, it will be a sad day indeed.

The Warden chuckles into my skin, his breath tickling. "You're not going anywhere." His arms wrap tighter around me. "I will keep you with me forever and ever, because you are my bestest friend in the whole wide world." And so we engage in the most fun you can have with your clothes on: cuddling. It may not be what I was after, but I adore it anyway. The next best thing. "This is fun," he sighs in a dreamy voice. "I've never had anyone like you."

"No? Nobody to have slumber parties with?" Oh, maybe our girls' night out should end like that. It's the perfect finale. "Not even a doll, or something, to hug at night?"

Al shakes his head. "No, nothing of the sort. But now I have you to make up for all the nights I've spent all by my lonesome self." Absently he twirls a lock of my hair around his finger. "Sorry, I'm being so terrible."

"Huh, what are you talking about?" Yes, hugging me is a terrible thing. Stop it, this instance. Right.

Batting his eyelashes, the silly guy sends me a remorseful look. "I haven't even told you how pretty you look."

"Aw, that's sweet, but you really don't have to." And there goes my blood, right to my face.

"It's what gentlemen do, don't you know?" Head tilted to the side, he looks me up and down. "Jowan was right; you should wear your hair down more often. And that blue, very nice," he says, indicating the shirt I'm wearing. Zevran's shirt. The redness that was already on my cheeks deepens a bit.

I nod and slip my hands under his thin tunic, through which his frame shows so beautifully. "Thanks, handsome, I'll keep that in mind." His skin is warm against my hands. "I'm sorry about this whole king business, though. Why does the arl insist on you, can't he do it himself?" I run my hands along his chest, slowly. Might as well give him a bit of a massage; he looks like he could use it. Tentatively I set to undoing the slight tension in his muscles.

"Ugh, I don't know." Alistair shrugs. "He says that it might seem opportunistic if he or Teagan made a bid for the throne, even though Arl Eamon's _beard_ would do a better job. Oh yeah, right there." He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and moans. "That feels _so_ good, wow."

"Good, you deserve to wind down a bit." Ah, that Daniela. Without her, I would have no idea how to give a proper massage. Or how to kiss Cullen that first time. Perhaps I should thank her for that. My life turned out quite well, didn't it? Adventure, friendship and all the sex I could ever wish for. And when I get back, my very own precious little sprout. The nightmares and shortened lifespan really aren't that bad. Sweet ass of Andraste, but he smells delicious. "Have I ever told you that you smell absolutely terrific?" Deeply I inhale his scent. "Mmm..."

The boy chuckles. "I like where this is going."

Something hard is pressing against my belly. "Do you, now?" The left corner of my mouth turns up in a smirk. A splendid idea has hatched in my brain. I quickly undo the laces on his trousers and bare his impressive organ. No matter how many times I see or feel it, the size of this honking big thing remains a marvel. I love it so. "Think you can handle some dirty talk now, big boy?" I purr, closing my fingers around him and squeezing softly.

"I don't know." A low gasp tumbles from his lips; his hard flesh pulses in my hand. "Probably not," he groans, "seeing how only this is driving me insane already."

My fingertips run along his velvety shaft, a touch almost lighter than air. "Then, how about I just casually tell you what I am going to do with you?"

Biting his lower lip, my handsome companion slips my shirt down my shoulders. "I-I guess that could be..." Long-drawn moan. "A disaster." Shakily he pulls the blue silk even farther down; his eyes briefly grow wide. "Dear Maker, you're not wearing anything under here?"

"For your convenience, my sweet prince." Or, you know, because I'm lazy. I run the tip of my tongue along his ear, fingers still massaging. So sensitive. So adorable. How could I resist? Thankfully, I don't have to. Neither does he. Alistair's coarse, yet tender fingers glide down my sides, then down my back. "That's right, no need to be shy…" As he roughly grabs my behind, I moan into his ear, the shell hot against my lips. My hand tightens around his rock-hard erection. Methinks the time for dirty talk has arrived. As seductively as possible, I coo: "I'm going to take this gorgeous cock of yours and slide it into my hot, wet-…"

"Stop that, crazy minx," Al groans in barely veiled despair. "You don't want me to spill it all over your hand, do you?" His voice is raspy and breathless, the grip he has on me perhaps slightly too tight.

I make good on my filthy promise, welcoming his rod in my wet warmth. "Come on, tough guy, you're better than that." Slowly I move my hips. "If you can insist that a gaping wound is a tiny nick, you can resist this urge..." Fuck _yes_, this feels amazing. Head thrown back, I cannot resist vocalizing my pleasure. Finally someone has come to put out the fire that Zevran had started.

"You can't liken pain to pleasure, Aster." The poor boy utters a sweet, plaintive whimper. "It isn't the same."

"N-no, well, kind of." His lightly curved shape is in an optimal position to rub that special little spot. Tightly I wrap my arms around his neck. "It all comes down to, to focusing your will." The movements of my hips quicken, his thick cock plunging deeper. "L-like when you're ignoring... pain." A sharp pang of pleasure stabs into my gut. "Ah! Or-or when I'm..." Why do I even try? "Never mind." Pressing my face into his shoulder, I pick up the pace even more. "Maker's breath, Al, I can't get enough of this cock of yours..."

His arms fall around my waist, pulling me closer, almost moulding our bodies into one. "It's yours for as long as you want it, kitty," Alistair murmurs affectionately. "You're special, after all." I would like to gush all over that, but as he conquers my mouth in a scorching kiss, speaking becomes impossible. And unimportant. Let us simply enjoy one another. Every fibre in my body is glowing from this, from his snugly being buried inside of me, from his passionate kiss, from his caressing hands, from his hard muscles pressing against my softness. This act is a gift from the Maker.

The inevitable throbbing doesn't set in for a long time. As soon as it becomes clear that the finish is in sight, I detach my mouth from his and cup my wonderful Warden's face in my hands. "Let me see your pleasure, sweetie." My voice is but a hoarse whisper.

Al barely gets in a nod before the tides wash over his features. "Whoa," he breathes afterwards. "That was so awesome." He almost immediately looks rueful again. "Oh, I haven't even thought of you..." Rue morphs into mischief. "Let me take care of that." I am on my back before I know it, with his face between my thighs. Where I am still dripping with his seed. Why does the thought of him tasting his own cum turn me on so badly? His tongue eagerly probes my cunt; he thoughtfully smacks his lips. "Interesting taste."

"Yeah? Do you like it?" I lay my hand on his head, to guide him if he gets distracted.

"Eh." He shrugs. "I don't hate it." With that, he begins pleasuring me in a very thorough manner. By now he knows what floats my boat; and boy, does he put that knowledge into practise! His fingers slide into me, moving back and forth. His tongue flicks my clit at a lightning speed. Those sweet amber eyes stay fixed on my face, watching me. I can't look away. Tangling my hands into his hair, I revel in that feeling of an imminent orgasm; my hips wriggle of their own accord, the muscles in my thighs tighten.


	4. National Holiday

Knock, knock. "_Kadan_, are you there?" Ignore, ignore. "I know you are in there, I can hear you." Ignore some more. "I can keep it up all day, _kadan_. This will only take a moment."

"Argh." Gone is all sexiness. "Is there some national holiday I am unaware of?"

"What holiday would that be?" Al wants to know, licking his fingers.

I roll my eyes. "Bother-Astoreth-Day." Reluctantly I get off the bed. "Now don't go anywhere, you."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Grinning happily, the sexy Warden hides himself under the blankets. As if that large, human-shaped lump could fool anyone. "Please make him leave quickly."

"It's just Sten, he doesn't talk much." I open the door and lean against the jamb, looking up at the Qunari. Seeing him out of armour is kind of odd. "So, Sten, what is so damned urgent that it couldn't wait until later?" I know I sound lustful, but I can't help it. It's just the mood he caught me in.

His violet eyes widen as they take in my appearance. On second thought, maybe I should have at least laced up this shirt. Or put on knickers. "I repaired this for you." Sten holds up my armlet; the blood is completely gone and the tear Asala made in it, has been sewn shut. Looks good. The Qunari grabs my wrist, to turn up my sleeve and inspect the inside of my forearm. "You heal quickly."

"I hardly have a choice." Mmm, his touch is cool against my heated skin. I suppose I can see why Morrigan wants the man so badly. There is just this certain _something_ about him. "Thank you very much." I accept my armlet with a nod. "You've done a good job on it." Now why don't you do a good job on _me_? Ugh. Yay. It's starting again.

"I know." His fingers linger a moment near the almost healed wound on my arm, making me shiver ever so slightly. "You feel hot, _kadan_, are you becoming ill?" One would swear there was a hint of worry in his gaze.

I laugh. "Let's hope not. Was there anything else?" Go on, get out of here...

"There is indeed." The fingers on my forearm trail up, along my upper arm, shoulder, then down my collarbone. Oh my, what is he doing? Is this what I think it is? Lower and lower, down my breastbone they go. "A word of advice, _kadan:_ watch the way you carry yourself." Much to my disappointment, Sten closes my shirt over my chest. "Otherwise, you might attract unwelcome attention." He leaves me without another word. Ah, my guardian.

Actually, it's a good thing nothing happened. Because, don't I have someone waiting for me, right in my own bed? "All right, Al, he's gone. You can come out now."

"About time!" He throws the blankets off himself, in an explosion of fine cotton and furs. My, my, what a sight... Crooking his finger, he beckons me closer. "Come here, kitty, I'm all ready for you," the young man croons, one hand around his fully erect cock. That sexy, sexy beast.

"Aw, baby, you are so good me." I jump into his arms and quickly find myself on my knees, with my erstwhile brother-in-arms behind me. "Ooh, how did you know?"

Alistair teasingly rubs his cock between my lips. "Know what?"

"This is my favourite position of all time." Craning my neck to look at him, I lay a languishing, longing look in my eyes. "Hurry, don't make me wait for it too long. Please?"

"Hmm, and here I thought I should try something new." Inch by inch he slips in. "You feel so _good_, Aster." Groaning in delight, he slowly pumps his hips back and forth.

As it just so happens, I don't want it slow right now. "Faster, Alistair, please. Fuck me harder, please…" For a while he says nothing. It's the same tantalizingly slow rhythm still, the same shallow thrusts. I beg and plead, but he doesn't listen.

"You are an impatient little kitty, aren't you?" The Warden laughs. That dirty tease. "I vaguely recall you saying something about not giving you everything at once, because it's better that way."

"Aww, but Alistaaair…" Wow, my arsenal of cheesy wisdom has just bitten me in the ass. I show him my cutest, most irresistible pout. "Please?" Big eyes, work your magic! "Please?"

He makes a noise halfway between a groan and a chuckle. "I would almost give in to that face of yours, but I'm not going to. Have patience." A friendly pat on the bum. "There's a good girl." Now why am I such a sucker for these things? A handsome man more or less patronizes me in a nice kind of way, and I turn to fawning pile of goo. Guess I'll bury my face in the pillow then, and suffer in silence, pleasurably, until he decides to show me some mercy. "This looks very interesting," he drawls. Suddenly his thumb is circling the entrance to my other orifice. I grasp the coverlets tightly between my clenched fists, breath caught in my throat. It's been too long. "Oh, you like this, don't you?" All I can do is nod and whimper. My pussy's doing all the talking anyway. "Wow! That's a good massage you're giving me there, little Warden." My dear friend laughs, smacking my rear with his free hand. "Can I play with this?"

"Sure, but-..." Moaning softly, I close my eyes for a few moments. "It's better if you moisten your fingers first."

"Thank you, that's always good to know." Slobbering noise. "That ought to do it." I get weak from his slow rubbing; then his fingertip slips in, and I nearly lose it. Not screaming out loud is difficult. My inner walls are clutching him so tightly, it almost hurts. Gripping my hip with one hand, Al moans delightedly: "Damn, I had no idea you were so adventurous." His rhythm is becoming a tad staggered, but I don't care, and he clearly doesn't either.

The stimulation to both places makes it almost impossible to speak. "Maybe… Another time… You could… Mmm… Fill my other hole." His response is an approving hum, and a violent twitch.

"Well, then." Forthwith he picks up his pace, thrusting harder. "That... really is too much for me." No more words; from here on we only enjoy ourselves without talking. Every powerful thrust sends a sting of pleasure into my gut that fans out through my entire body. I can't feel anything else. How long have I been here, getting my brains fucked out by possibly the sweetest boy I know? I have no idea. I know one thing though: I hope he never stops. My arms are beginning to ache, but I don't care. My knees are getting sore, but I don't care. Every time his pelvis bumps against my behind, my breasts jiggle, my nipples rub up against the mattress. Every single movement, down to his finger deliciously massaging my ass, only adds to my pleasure. I can only hope Al likes it just as much as I do.

But, judging from those incredibly sexy grunts he's uttering, I guess so. After all the shit that's been thrown at him, that boy deserves a bit of love and attention. A chance for him to do whatever he wants. Fortunately, _I_ am what he wants to do. Lucky me. There is only one thing that can make this better. Mmm, yes... Supporting my weight on only one hand is hard, but so very worth it. My clit pulses against my finger as I gently flick it. It feels larger and harder than it usually does. Only a few rubs, and there it is. I scream into the pillow; my entire frame tightens first, then relaxes with my release. Fuck, _finally_.

Deep inside me, I feel a distinct throbbing sensation. "Maker's breath, what are you doing?" my lover pants breathlessly. "Stop it... Please, I can't…" Unable to resist, he joins me in climax. Al stays perfectly still as he digs his fingers into my hips and growls. Sweet Maker, Andraste and all the elven gods. Note to self: don't spend too many consecutive sexy times with Alistair. I'm too damned young to die. "Good grief, Aster." With a content sigh, he flops onto the bed beside me and pulls me into his arms. "I think your favourite position might be mine too." He is panting heavily.

"We have so much in common." My fingers trace random patterns on his chest. "Maybe we should hang out sometime. You know, have sex or something."

"Not a bad idea," my companion chuckles. "I have the distinct feeling that you're pretty good at the whole sex thing."

I curl up to his warm body and close my eyes. Mmm, snug as a bug in a rug. "That is something you should find out for yourself, my friend." We lie there in silence for a while. It's not an awkward silence at all. This friends with benefits business may just be the best thing ever invented.

"So, uh..." Al clears his throat. "You like it in the butt, huh?"

"Yeah, I do." A shiver runs down my back. "When done gently and patiently, that is." That first time, it was brilliant. Zevran really knows what he's doing. I should get him to do it again, really.

The boy giggles. "You know, one of the Wardens used to say that his wife almost divorced him when he tried that with her." Still giggling, he continues: "He must have done something wrong."

"I guess so." Something hits me, something sweet and important. "Hey... You are special to me too." It can't be left unsaid. I doubt he doesn't know, but still. Sometimes one needs to hear things out loud.

"Huh?" Al makes his thinking noise. "Oh, that. Heh, thanks..." I don't have to look at him to know that he has turned that particular shade of pink. "You took it upon yourself to rid me of this cloud of horniness I was constantly living in and I will be eternally grateful. Seriously."

"Mmm, it was a sacrifice, but somebody had to do it." I bury my face in his chest. How I love it here.

Laughter vibrates against my cheek. "I know, right? I'm glad it was you. Because you're the best friend I've ever had, and I feel really comfortable around you."

"Aw, I'm glad. I feel the same way." I remember when we met. Not at all what I expected, but I have liked him from the very start. Nice guy, nice looks. There really isn't anything not to like about him. Nothing at all. Maybe the insecurity, but even that is a stretch. "We have been quite close from the get-go, huh?"

"Yeah, we have." He smiles his sweet, innocent smile. "Anyway, now that we're... intimate, I'll do whatever you want. Just name it, and I'll run to do it for you."

"And you wouldn't if I were not sleeping with you?" I shake my head in mock disappointment and touch my hand to my chest. "I am hurt. Deeply hurt. Shame on you."

His eyebrows shoot up. "No, no, I don't mean it like that." The boy pouts, adorably so. "I'm sorry."

"Gotcha..." I grin, tracing his abs with my index finger. Such a beautiful male specimen. "I was only joking, lover."

My expression is mirrored on Al's face. "Good, because I have something for you." His hand closes around mine, guiding it lower down his abdomen. What else could I encounter, but his raging hard-on? "It's all yours, do you like it?" he murmurs into my ear, his breath hot against my neck.

I rub my thumb over the very tip of him, and am rewarded with a sharp gasp. "You know what?" The only response is a desperate, questioning groan. "This is better than Christmas!"


	5. Going Out

_Hope everyone has enjoyed the holidays._

* * *

"So, I hear you girls are going out?" Alistair continues shovelling great quantities of food down his gob, pausing only to take a few sips of mead. "Wow, this stuff is awesome," he mutters between bites. Stubbs, who has probably been wandering all around the estate while I was with my colleague, is lying under the table. Apart from a juicy bone (for as far as a bone can be juicy), he has our spills to gobble up. And the occasional piece of meat I throw him. I don't think I've ever seen him this happy. Just look at him pant, aw...

"Indeed we are." Morrigan is the one to reply. She is daintily picking at a plate strewn with some tiny morsels of food. "Perhaps you should come too. We might need ourselves a dogsbody to carry our purchases."

The Warden scoffs. "You can carry your own stuff, lady."

"You are forbidden to join us anyway, Alistair." Leliana smiles and pops a grape into her mouth. "No boys allowed."

"I'm not a boy, I'm a man!" he declares proudly, expanding his chest. The others laugh merrily about what Alistair just said. Thankfully nobody gives a thought to the implication of this statement. Except for Zevran, who is snickering into his cup. The elf winks at me suggestively. I wink back and briefly waggle my eyebrows. Who cares if he knows? He can't fault me for sleeping with two people, as he is doing exactly the same. They should invite me again. I like to watch.

The Antivan casually suggests: "Perhaps we men should do the same and go out tonight as well."

"Nah, I got all I need right here," Oghren replies with his mouth full. He tears another chunk of meat off his turkey leg. There are so many bits stuck in his moustache, ick. "Good food, good booze. I've been outside enough to last me a lifetime. This place has a roof, at least."

"Agreed." Sten swallows a bit of bread. "I am going to polish my weapons and armour; this is an excellent opportunity."

Zev rolls his eyes. "_Oddio_, you guys are boring." I love it when he speaks Antivan. It might just be the most elegant language known to man.

"I wouldn't mind going out for drinks with you," says Alistair, quite unexpectedly. "As long as you don't try anything funny."

"In that case, never mind." The Antivan laughs heartily. "You would not like me when drunk."

My fellow Warden sighs. "Oh, well. Anyone got a book I can borrow?"

"I certainly do." Wynne is grinning in a rather evil way, something I would never even have thought her capable of. "Astoreth lent me this; perhaps you would enjoy reading it." She hands him a very familiar red book.

"Oh, I know this one. Thanks, I'll never turn down a bit of pornographic entertainment." His eyes narrow. "Why are you smirking like that, Wynne?"

The old lady somehow manages to return to a straight face. "No reason in particular, dear."

"All right then." Al immediately dives into the book. "What...? Seriously...?" Those and similar phrases he mumbles while reading. His eyes are like saucers. Apparently he isn't as absorbed as I thought, because when nobody's paying any attention to us, he bends down and whispers into my ear: "I'll miss you tonight. Will you think of me often?" For a moment, he pets my upper leg.

"The whole time, sweetie." I'll think of the way you squeeze your eyes shut when you come, the way you moan when I lick sensitive spots on you... "Incidentally, you should brace yourself for a disgusting ending."

"Don't snack on anything near the end, got it." He laughs, then eyeballs my plate with a certain gleam of avarice in his gaze. "Are you going to finish that?"

"What, of course I am!" Like a mother hen would her chicks, I keep my food from his hungry, hungry clutches. "My stomach is at least as bottomless as yours. Besides, there is plenty more on the table."

That sneaky scoundrel applies his cutest pout. "Yes, but you hogged all the pork belly, and that is the best part of the animal. It's my favourite."

"I... But..." Damn it all, I can't resist. "Let's share it." Using my amazing powers of guess, I cut the piece of meat in two. "Here..."

Alistair promptly devours it, then shows me a toothy grin. "See, that's why I like you. You don't mind sharing." He burps loudly. "Oops, sorry."

Under the table, my hound barks and licks my ankle. "You just want some pork belly too, don't you?" He barks again. "Fine, but you can't have any of the crackling." That is mine. All mine. Muahahaha! Stubbs happily attacks the generous helping I dangle above his nose.

"Ooh, crackling. Can I...?" He points at the delicious, crispy, divine portion on my plate. "Please?"

"Ugh, fine." Grudgingly I just give him the whole thing. I don't need it anyway. Alistair starts nibbling on it with an incredibly content look on his face. "I might actually lose weight if you continue this."

A rough hand presses my thigh. "Oh, I hope you're not serious, Warden, 'cause that would be a shame." Oghren sends me another one of his trademark dirty grins. "A girl needs a bit of meat on her bones, I always say." Super, he left some gravy on my leg. And now it's gone again. Thanks, Stubbs.

"You have enough meat in your beard for several girls," a very offended-looking Morrigan says in a very Morrigan-like manner. The lady is in need of attention, I see. Now if it turns out that her tastes are as varied as mine, I could give her all the attention she wants. And more. Hehehe…

"Relax, witch, you have more than enough meat on your chest." The dwarf directs his leering at her instead. "Those look like a pair of real tasty sweetbreads."

The witch harrumphs, her expression triumphant. She straightens her shoulders; whether the gesture is deliberate or subconscious, I'll never know. "My thought exactly."


	6. The (Less) Exciting Shopping

Shale is glaring at me and plodding on with great reluctance. "Why did it insist on bringing me?" she sighs in exasperation. "I have no need for such outings."

"Because we are going to shop until we drop, and we need you to carry our stuff," I reply. My voice is almost unnaturally cheerful. Ah, Alistair took such good care of me. Dinner was delicious and fulfilling, even with the reduced helping of crackling. Happy day. Ow, my face is really beginning to stretch out of shape.

The golem harrumphs. "So I am to be its slave, is that it?"

"Think of the shoes, Shale." Leliana gives her an encouraging pat. "We shall find you a cobbler yet."

Morrigan rolls her eyes. "Have you decided on a colour? This is vital, you see." Her voice is dripping with sarcasm. "Lives depend upon this crucial affair."

"How about red?" I toss in my two coppers. "I think that would be perfect."

"Red?" Shale thoughtfully rubs her chin. "Does it think that would suit me?"

I nod. "Bold, daring! That's totally you."

"And remember," Morrigan adds. "Red is the colour of blood. You do enjoy the sight of a fountain of it, do you not?"

"Humans are perhaps not as stupid as I always thought." The golem seems genuinely pleased. I'm so damned happy with her seal of approval, let me tell you. Ecstatic, is what I am. "Bold, daring, and the colour of those vile feathered fiends' blood. Pure perfection."

"Yes, yes, lovely," Wynne grumbles. "Can we please move this along? I cannot wait to be rid of this splintery piece of rubbish." The distasteful look she shoots at her staff speaks volumes.

Our bard flashes one of her typical radiant smiles. "As it so happens, we are here." She points up at the sign of the shop we are standing in front of. _Wonders of Thedas_. "See?"

The old lady perks up visibly, and so we are ready to get the less exciting shopping over with.

~*|'-'|*~

All right, I take that back. This isn't a fancy shop with a ton of things I would like to have, but it's exciting nonetheless. I really need to pick up the _Rose of Orlais_ for Wynne; Stiffington's adventures were such a disappointment to her. Crap, this book is so expensive. No wonder nobody has bought it yet. Cullen was reading this, if I remember correctly. I've seen a bit, so I know it's naughty. But what else? There has to be more to it. Random page, here we go.

_Even though their affair had ended a long time ago, Garren was never far from Talia's mind. Despite everything, she loved him. The sad part was that she realized that, but could do naught about it. Not with the way he had left her. Every memory of him hurt. Recollections of his touch, his kiss, the way he had made love to her; they all cut her like poison-tipped daggers. Slowly she was wasting away, all of her remaining energy poured into her once so beloved hobby: painting. Now all she could produce were painfully lifelike portraits of her former lover. His handsome face smirked at her from every angle of her bedroom. Her hobby had become a form of punishment. _

_Sighing forlornly, Talia put the finishing touches to her latest portrait. This time, Garren was wearing the armour that made him look even more handsome and powerful and proud. His helmet was tucked under his arm, so his face was in full view. He wore the same arrogant look he always did. _

_"My dear, you cannot go on this way any longer," her mother suddenly spoke in a sad tone. Talia was startled; she hadn't even heard her door opening. "You have become so thin; I cannot bear to see you this way any longer." The noblewoman looked at her daughter, whose eyes looked alarmingly hollow and whose cheeks were sunken deeply. Her high cheekbones had become all too prominent. "Please, come down with me and eat." _

_"Why should I?" The young lady's voice came out in a dry croak. "What is the use?" She lay down her brush and palette, then threw herself onto her luxurious bed. "I cannot live without him." _

_Her mother was at her side in an instant, dragging the girl upright. "And you think languishing in your bedroom is the way to get him back, do you?" Her tone of pity had become harsh. "A walking skeleton will regain his love, will it? Let me tell you something, young lady." The older noblewoman grasped her daughter's chin, forcing her to look her in the eye. "You will get dressed properly, come down and eat your dinner. You will become healthy and beautiful once more and then you will apply yourself to getting that damned chevalier back!" Before walking out the door, she hissed: "I did not win your father by playing the helpless princess." _

_Talia looked at the empty door opening in shock. She wasn't quite sure how to feel about that outburst. For the first time in months, her gaunt face broke into a smile. She decided to draw strength from her mother's tenacious pride. Leisurely she ambled over to her spacious closet, so she could pick out a nice dress to wear. _

How sweet. I'm sure the old lady will love this. Ugh, look at that. Head of adulterer in honey. That's a miserable look if ever I saw one. "I told you it was gruesome," Leliana chuckles behind me. "Have you ever seen such a look of horror on a man before?" Her smiling face blocks the odd item from view.

"Not that I can recall, no." This is a much better sight, I have to say. "Although you have to admit, you would probably look like that too if someone were to cut off _your_ head and stick it in honey."

Her eyes light up with glee. "Indeed! Look, I have found something amazing." The bard shows me a book, bound in blue leather and stamped with golden letters. _Love Poetry from Distant Lands_. I don't know; I'm not too crazy about poetry, personally. "This book is unique," she whispers reverently. "More than three centuries old. Look at how beautifully the pages have been preserved." The tips of her ears and her cheeks turn pink as she flips through her treasure with the utmost care. The parchment looks brittle and delicate, but the ink is barely faded and the script is a good size. Not bad. What is the deal with the women I travel with and books? She does look so very, very sweet like this. It kind of makes me want to kiss her. And... do... other things... Aw, geez. "Read this one here."

_No way to see him_

_On this moonless night –_

_I lie awake longing, burning,_

_Breasts racing fire,_

_Heart in flames._

I'm awestruck. This is such a powerful image, I can see it right in front of me. And haven't we all been there? I know I have. "That is exceptional. But what is this chicken scratch here on the side?" A bunch of inky lines in a jumble.

"No silly, that's no chicken scratch." The bard grins. "It is the original language. Not a soul can read it anymore nowadays, but to the people of Wa, it must have made perfect sense."

"The people of where now?" This was not part of the Circle's history curriculum. Or I might have been asleep when they were teaching this.

Leliana laughs again. "W-A, Wa. It was a collection of islands far, far away to the east. Sadly, they were consumed by a tidal wave, almost two centuries ago." She shakes her head. "The Land of Wa is lost forever now. Thinking about it nearly breaks my heart."

"Seriously, an entire country and its inhabitants, swallowed by the sea?" That is horrible. Imagine how afraid they must have been. "What do you know of this book, exactly?"

"Not a lot." Shrug. "A Fereldan nobleman was shipwrecked there. He spent the rest of his life with these people, learned their language. Those that went looking for him, returned with a great many treasures and curios." Almost lovingly she caresses the cover. "In my opinion, this book is the greatest treasure of all. The editor spent decades collecting and translating his favourite poetry; there is an entire culture _right here_." With a great, dramatic sigh, she returns the book to its place on one of the many shelves. "I cannot afford to buy this anyway. Better not to torture myself any longer." One last wistful look at the blue spine and the girl is off. Good, good. Methinks I have a good plan. Leliana is a wonderful person; she deserves a little present. Even if it costs an arm and a leg. You'd think for that price, it would be made from silver and semi-precious stones. What else is in this, anyway? Let me see...

_Even if I now saw you_

_Only once,_

_I would long for you_

_Through worlds,_

_Worlds._

Oh, my goodness. That is beautiful. I can really get behind that. Know what I really love here? The brevity. Only a few words convey a powerful image, it's unbelievable. Most poetry I've read was too long and tedious, with overly dramatic and flowery language. Damn. This is amazing. Although, I could be wrong, because here is a long one. With a title, even. Fancy!

_**Things I Want Decided**_

_Which shouldn't exist_

_In this world,_

_The one who forgets_

_Or the one_

_Who is forgotten?_

_Which is better,_

_To love_

_One who has died_

_Or not to see_

_Each other when you're alive?_

_Which is better,_

_The distant lover_

_You long for_

_Or the one you see daily_

_Without desire?_

_Which is the least unreliable_

_Among fickle things –_

_The swift rapids,_

_A flowing river,_

_Or this human world?_

Oh, this just makes me want to applaud. It's brilliant. I think I'm in love. Hopefully Leliana will allow me to borrow it from her from time to time. This right here, it sounds like tons of fun to read. I will simply sit there and stare into empty space, sighing forlornly. "Wah!" Looks like my brain is already lost in empty space; a simple touch on my shoulder has almost made me jump into the ceiling.

"What if I had been a darkspawn?" Morrigan chuckles, shaking her head in amusement. "You would have been no more, my friend."

"Yeah, well, had you been a darkspawn, I would have felt you long before you could have reached me." The girl has more stuff in her arms than she can actually carry. "Found everything you need?"

She nods. "Elfroot, goose fat, empty bottles and jars, I do believe I-… Oh!" A bottle rolls from its precarious perch; it hits the floor with a dull thud. Without shattering, thankfully. "Good, I despise paying for broken items."

"Broken or not, you're not paying for anything." The coins in my purse jingle joyfully. "I am."

"Oh, does that mean you will be paying for this as well?" Wynne shows me her acquisition: a metal staff in the shape of two intertwined dragon's heads, grasping a single glass ball between their jaws. That is a beautiful thing. "It is so much better than my old one, if a bit steep in price…"

I shrug. "Yeah, whatever you need. Is that all you guys want?"

"Look here, old cat." Morrigan, who has already dumped her mountain of items on the counter, is showing her fellow mage a lovely set of red robes. "Are you not in need of a better garment?"

"Aren't you, little witch?" There is a kind of uneasy peace between the two, where they only express their dislike for one another, without acting on it. Thank the Maker for that. I need them both. "You have barely a thread on your body."

Morrigan shrugs. "My body is one that is simply begging to be displayed to the world." A predatory smile graces her features. That look suits her. "And what threads I _do _have on my body are of far better quality than your Circle rags."

"By all the birds in this city!" Shale groans, ready to explode. "None of this matters a single, tiny, miniscule bit. Give me something to do, before I go mad with boredom. Or let me return. Even the sister has become tired of your constant bickering. It has gone outside just now." The golem turns on her heel. "I shall keep it company and find myself a few birds to crush. Oh, I did happen to see a squishy little squirrel on the way here..."

Not that I see her as a pack mule, or anything, but: "Sure, Shale, just let me pay for this stuff first, so you can carry it for us."

"Ugh, must I?" The stone creature lets out another sigh. "I do not hate it yet, but I am coming awfully close." While she goes off on a tangent about how badly I treat her, she never gets to go on missions, wah, wah, wah, and all that, I listen with half an ear and pay for our stuff. Goodbye, shiny coins.

"I shall rue the day you finally hate me," I promise solemnly. "Now if you would hold out your arms like this..."

* * *

_The excerpt from the "Rose of Orlais" comes completely from my own sordid mind. _

_The poems quoted here are ancient Japanese in origin; they are by Ono no Komachi (the first one) and Izumi Shikibu respectively. If you feel like reading more, I wholeheartedly recommend "The Ink Dark Moon", with translations by Jane Hirschfield and Aratani Mariko of poems by the two ladies mentioned above. _

_Also, way back when (I forget exactly when, but long before the poems were created), Japan was called the Kingdom of Wa. That's where I got the name from. Obviously Japan hasn't been swallowed by the waves, though they have come close a few times._


	7. Sturdy Shoes

"So let me get this right: you want me to make a pair of sandals for..." The cobbler looks very strangely at Shale, which is understandable. "For your friend here," he finally manages. It must be a strange sight, this walking, talking statue. The man looks at me with his head tilted, trying to make sense of it, I think. There really is no sense to be made of this madness; I realized that a long time ago.

"That's right," the golem replies, all on her own. "I need some cushioning for my feet."

The shoemaker scratches his head, looks at her feet, at her face, then back to her feet again. "Uh, yeah... They will need to be really sturdy."

Leliana chimes in: "Indeed! Shale weighs a lot." Understatement of the century, that.

"Is the sister calling me fat?" our stone companion demands to know, her tone threatening. We all back away a bit.

"No, no! I would never!" Leliana raises her hands in a placating gesture. "You're not fat, you are strong and sturdy." I could swear she is trembling ever so slightly.

Shale chuckles. "That was a joke, sister." No hilarity ensues. That was too convincing. "My sense of humour is lost on you squishy beings." Long sigh. "In any case, what are my options?" she asks the cobbler.

"For you, the best thing would probably be a pair of clogs. Here." The man reaches under the counter and produces an example: the sole is made from polished wood; the upper is made from what looks like supple leather, nailed to the sole with copper studs. "What do you think?"

Very gingerly, Shale takes the item in her hand and inspects it from every angle. "I would like them to be open-toed, maybe with a thick strap at the ankle. Is that possible?" That is what Leliana suggested, if I remember correctly. Nice to see her and Shale getting along this well.

"Sure." The cobbler shrugs. "I can do pretty much anything, as long as you have the money."

Subsequently our stone friend commands me: "Pay it, Warden!"

"Well hey, your wish is my command." It isn't, really, but she does so much for so little in return. I whip out my coin purse. "How much are we talking here?" We haggle about the price, more because I'm trying to keep my negotiating skills sharp than because I think the price is too high, until we come to an agreement. I knocked about a quarter off, there. Not bad.

While Shale and the shoemaker work out an exact design and she is being measured and whatnot, Leliana looks at the proceedings with slight envy in her gaze. "I miss my silk slippers every day." In obvious dismay she shoots a glance at her boots. "These are so inelegant."

"Really? What did those slippers look like?" I bet they weren't caked in mud most of the time. Or blood. Smelling like death from wearing them days on end. Maker, we're actually pretty disgusting.

"Pale blue silk, pointed toe, studded with jewels and ribbons, impossibly high heels..." The bard sighs as if in love. "They made me look so beautiful. Can you imagine?" She spins around slowly, balancing on the tips of her toes. Lost in dreamland.

I don't know about that, really. There is only one thing I do know: "I think you are beautiful whether you're wearing fancy shoes or not."

Leliana halts mid-spin. "Really?" She flings her arms around me. "You are the sweetest!"

"_Three whole days?_" Shale rudely interrupts our tender moment. "I have to wait three whole days for my shoes to be done? Can't it be any quicker?"

The shoemaker shakes his head. "Afraid not."

"Not even if I threaten to squish it?" the golem asks hopefully.

"Afraid not." The shoemaker shakes his head again.

I lay a hand on Shale's arm. "You know, Shale, if you let the man take his time, you can be sure that your shoes will get all the care and attention that they deserve and they will be perfect."

"Oh, well, if it puts it that way, I suppose I can have some patience." She sighs sadly. "Three days! I am unsure if I can bear that." We leave the cobbler to his work, while Shale moans and complains about not wanting to wait three whole days. Even _she_ is like a child sometimes.


	8. Goddesses in Sexy Sundries

Now this is a store I didn't see the last time we were in the city. _Frederick's Sexy Sundries_. "What kind of sundries might those be, and how sexy are we talking?" I muse out loud.

"Why don't we find out?" Leliana is already halfway through the door.

"Oh my..." Wynne blushes a pale red. "Sexy? That may not be my cup of tea."

Smirking wickedly, Morrigan replies: "Indeed, old woman. Is it not time for you to retire to bed?"

Aforementioned old woman smiles in her typical kind way. "Isn't it time for you to drop dead, dear Morrigan?" she says, her voice sugary sweet.

"Oh, nice." Shale gives a slow clap. "The elderly mage has a sharp wit."

"Ladies, please, be nice to each other." I give the angry women a stern look. "If you can't manage that, we will have to return to Arl Eamon's mansion. Is that what you want?" Sterner look. "Do you really want to ruin it for everyone?"

The witch and the enchantress meekly shake their heads. "No, Astoreth," they mumble in one voice.

"Good." Golems, grown women; everybody has their childlike moments. Finally we may go inside.

There, a bored-looking gent who is dressed in bright, shiny pink from head to toe and sporting a simply glorious handlebar moustache, perks up. "Oh, could it be? _Customers_?" Goodness gracious. Quite contrary to his effeminate appearance, the man has a deep, manly voice. "Welcome, dear ladies." He flips his long, auburn curls away from his face in an elegant gesture.

"Greetings." I'll just cut right to the chase. "So, sexy sundries, huh?"

"We are very curious as to what those sundries might be," our bard adds. She is almost bouncing from sheer curiosity. Oh, just you wait until I show you your present, girl. You'll love it!

Mister Moustache smiles knowingly. "Ah, I have many things to entice your lovers," he comments with a wink. "Sexy lingerie, balms and ointments to, ah…" He coughs. "To improve endurance, shall we say. Certain items for the bedroom, to spice up your love life or chase away loneliness." A smooth smirk. "Though I'm sure that last part does not apply to you ladies." Suddenly, his eyes grow wide. They bulge so far from their sockets, they might pop out at any moment. "You!" he exclaims, pointing a shaky finger behind us. Whoa, what is going on? "My lady, you are a vision!"

"W-what?" Wynne, our very own vision, clutches a hand to her chest. "Surely you don't mean-..."

"Hush now, my silver-haired goddess." Mister Moustache kneels at the old lady's feet and seizes her hand. Heheheh, I don't think I've ever seen her embarrassed in such a way. The man plants noisy, smacking kisses on the back of her hand and subsequently up her forearm. "Your young companions are lovely, but you surpass them with your beauty. When they are your age, they will be lucky to be half as stunning as you." I suppose that's true. The woman has barely a wrinkle on her.

"Oh, my..." Her expression one of uncertainty as how to feel about all of this, Wynne forces out a smile. "Certainly you are exaggerating, Mister...?"

He smiles widely under his well-groomed moustache. "My name is Frederick, my beautiful queen. What do they call you?"

"A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Frederick, I am Wynne," the old lady politely introduces herself. "And these young ladies a-..."

"Oh, who cares?" Jumping to his feet, the pink-clad shopkeeper drags our baffled companion behind him, in the direction of a curtain in the back of the room. "Come, my muse! I have designs to model on your luscious frame!" Wynne's protests go unheeded.

Morrigan looks around in disbelief. "Are we in the Fade? For I am certain that this, just now, did not happen."

"Do you find it strange that someone might find Wynne attractive?" Leliana is already sifting through a rack of garments. "She is remarkably well-preserved for someone her age."

The golden-eyed witch shrugs, reluctantly. "I… must admit, loath as I am to do so, that the old woman is not as disgusting as she could be."

"Wow Morrigan, you are so liberal with your compliments." I see something pretty, something flimsy in black and red. "How do you think this would look on me, Leliana?" Short, partially see-through… I think Al and Zev would like it, at least.

The bard whistles. "I think you would look darling in it, dearest, but perhaps you should try this colour. Less dark." She hands me virtually the same garment, but in all red.

"What need have I for such-… Oh, how lovely." Almost reverently, Morrigan cradles a little negligee in her hands. The satin is a deep shade of purple. "I would look very beautiful in this."

"No more than you do already, my dear." Maker's breath, I'm smooth. And sincere. And so incredibly modest too.

The witch giggles sweetly, so unlike her usual self. "Oh, stop it…" It seems that being surrounded by all these pretty things has a positive effect on her. "Incidentally, I think red is just your colour."

"I agree. Now, let's not waste any more time." Leliana hooks a finger into my belt. "I shall help you with all your ribbons and clasps and whatnot. Follow me." She subsequently guides me behind a thick, velvet curtain in the back of the room, where it will be just the two of us. My, how exciting.

"Is there anything _you_ would like to try on?" I ask. Whatever I can do to break the tension, that probably only I am feeling.

"Not really." The bard looks up from fiddling with the strap around my waist. "Believe it or not, I have too many unmentionables like these." She smiles radiantly. Hers might be the loveliest smile I have ever seen.

"Oh, I believe it," I laugh. A bit strained, one might notice. The pleasant smell that hangs around this woman is driving me mad. The chains around my waist land on the floor with a metallic clang, my corset soon follows suit; I can't suppress a sigh of liberation.

Leliana laughs, the sound like the jingle of so many little bells. "Silly, it was barely tightened." Her nimble fingers make short work of my collar. "Mages' attire is very intricate..." Slowly but surely, my robes are dismantled, until there is hardly anything left to take off. "You are quite uninhibited, I see." She giggles. "Many people would have taken offense to my sliding into their bathtub or helping them undress, but not you."

"Nope." A few laces loosened, and I can step out of the remainder of my clothing. "Until very recently, I had no idea what the word 'privacy' meant. Hand me that nightie, would you?" It slips over my head with ease, the feel of the fabric smooth and breezy against my skin. Great fit. I fold my arms under my bust, pressing the area upwards and together. This looks pretty good. "What do you think?" I look at myself in the tall mirror that's installed on the far wall. Yeah, this will be a great hit with my boys. Oddly enough, it would be quite functional as well. I mean, I can simply pop one breast out of this thing to feed Collin. Aw, how would my baby be doing? I'm sure Helena is taking great care of him. As long as my precious is happy and safe.

"Dearest one, you look ravishing." Leliana appears behind me, peeking over my shoulder. Her hands tug at the silky fabric, to smoothen it. "This has been made just for you, I think." The young woman smiles at me in the mirror. Maker's breath, she's lovely. What I wouldn't give to kiss her. I'm wondering what's stopping me. What indeed? Mmm, there is no time like the present.


	9. The Golden City

The curtain separating the fitting room from the rest of the place is pushed away all of a sudden. Who else could it be but our lovely Morrigan? "Never mind the woman behind the curtain," she says in a cheerful tone. Promptly she pulls her top off, revealing those perfect breasts of hers. But nice tits or no, she is intruding just the slightest bit. Oh, well. I doubt I would have had the guts to simply swoop in and start making out with Leliana. The witch briefly looks me up and down. "You look wonderful, my friend. Here," she hands our red-headed friend something. "You simply must try this one, Leliana."

"Why, Morrigan, you have excellent taste." Leliana examines the sky blue nightgown, in a shimmering fabric trimmed with creamy lace. Unlike what I have on and what the witch is slipping over her shoulders, hers will reach down to her ankles. "I cannot resist this." Her leathers are gone in an instant, the blue garment donned just as quickly. "Ah, soft as a cloud…" Those hip-high slits are so scandalous. If I had any sense of propriety at all, I might faint. Fie! For shame, and all that!

"Look at us three, trying on all too sexual garments together." Morrigan chuckles. "Somewhere, somebody is having a dream similar to this."

I giggle at the idea. "Boy, are they going to be bummed when they wake up." For a few moments, we all share a laugh.

"If there is any fun at all to be had in here, I wish to be part of it." Shale joins our party. "What is going on?" Her glowing eyes look at each of us in turn.

"What do you think?" Leliana lays her arms around Morrigan's shoulders and mine, pulling us closer to her. "Aren't we lovely?"

The golem shrugs. "If I were a squishy male instead of my invincible self, I would certainly be hard now." She nods. "And then the dwarf would add something along the lines of 'bow chicka bow wow', whatever that may mean."

"You have spent decidedly too much time with him!" Morrigan explodes with laughter. "That _is_ exactly what he would say."

"Oh, that Oghren." I shake my head, still chuckling. He is hilarious. "I'll go check on Wynne, see what she's up to." What does that man want with her, anyway? I hope I don't walk into anything that will need barrels full of brain bleach to clear away. "Wynne, are you all right?"

The old lady smiles fondly. "Certainly, dear. I am having a-…"

"Now, now, my goddess, please stay still," Mister Moustache, or I should say Frederick, admonishes his muse. Tip of his tongue protruding from between his lips, the man pins a row of ruffles to the unusual design modelled on our elderly enchantress. It would look so much better on her if she weren't still wearing her robes underneath. He takes his eyes away from his work. "Well, well. Look at you, little heartbreaker." A longing sigh rolls from his lips. "See, I really miss this, ladies going in and out of my shop, trying on my creations." He grins. "Filling my pockets with gold. Give us a twirl, my darling." Flattered as I am, I do as he asks. "Gorgeous!" Frederick sticks up both of his thumbs, a smile of joy on his face. "I have that design in several colours; you should try the blue one." He returns to his labour of love. "Now shoo, daddy's busy."

Daddy? Ew, you're not my daddy. …Right? Nah. "Er, all right, but we are going to need our friend back at some point." There is a lot more fun to be had, let me tell you. "Some point in the not too distant future."

"Very well, rip my muse away from me, if you must." The shopkeeper sighs sadly. "But you will be back, won't you, my queen?"

"If I can…" The old lady shows him a shy smile. "I fear I cannot make any promises." Yeah, there's the Blight, for one. And the fact that she is, in essence, dead. Deceased in the manner of a doornail, if you will. Living on borrowed time. She seems so normal, for someone who should be pushing up daisies.

Frederick rolls his eyes. They're greener than the Brecilian Forest, flecked with tiny specks of bronze and gold. "Story of my life… If I had a copper for every time someone told me that, I would be a rich man." Matching several kinds of lace to the dress pinned to Wynne, he mumbles: "You can have her back in a moment; I really need to finish this."

"It's all right, dear." Wynne seems to be having the time of her life. "We have time, don't we?"

"Yes, we do. Very well, I'll browse the shop some more." Time for me to leave those two alone.

How sad. It's obvious that this place doesn't see many customers: the many bottles lining the shelves are covered by a thin layer of dust. Strawberry oil? Sounds lovely. And yes, lovely it is. Mmm… I'm going to rub this all over someone's beautiful body and give them the ride of their life. Zevran or Alistair? Why not both? Sweet ass of Andraste, am I a lucky girl. From years of pent-up frustration, to those two. For all the stuff I'm missing, I'm getting a whole lot back. Sometimes I wonder whether it is nothing but pointless, mindless sex that I should stop having. But no, that's not it. Those guys mean something to me. I am decidedly too sentimental. Guess that is part of being a woman. Then there's Jowan, of course. But I shouldn't think of him too often; I do not want to be crying all the time.

Ooh, here we have the blue one… Gorgeous. I would look fabulous in this. Are there any stockings around to go with this, I wonder? Yes, yes, there are. They're rather flimsy, but so pretty. All sheer silk and lace. Must have. And are these things _shoes_? Wow, they look about as practical as a house made out of matchsticks. I don't think I can walk in them. "Oi, Leliana, have you seen these yet?"

"Seen what?" She rushes from behind the curtain and sighs blissfully, as soon as she catches sight of the shoes. "Oh, this has to be the Golden City… I had almost forgotten I was staring through the window the last time I was wandering through Denerim. I can't wait to try some of these on!"

"I really don't see the appeal." Unless you enjoy broken ankles.

The bard playfully swats my arm. "You will, just watch." Standing on her toes, she grabs a pair of particularly high-heeled specimens off the shelves. Just looking at them makes me dizzy. "Step into these, dearest."

"Well, if you insist." Lovely. They are about as comfortable and stable as I imagine stilts to be. "Don't, for the love of the Maker, ask me to walk even an inch in these."

"You are being too dramatic. Come on." Leliana nudges my back. "You will be fine." I try taking a step and promptly fall flat on my face. "Or maybe not."

Somewhere above me, I can hear Morrigan laughing. "What are you _doing_?"

"Whatever it is, it amuses me greatly." Shale. Humph, bitch.

"Perhaps you were right," says the redhead regretfully as she helps me up. "Are you hurt?"

"Nope, everything in order." I give my face a quick check. "No harm done."

Our witch, who apparently has the exact same size as I, subsequently slips her feet into the shoes and struts about. "I do not see how you can have any trouble with this, Astoreth. 'Tis simple."

"You are a natural, Morrigan." The red-haired bard looks at her with barely veiled admiration. So am I, but not because she can get around so well in her high heels. Look at the way that ass sways. From left to right and right to left. It's damn near hypnotic. I want nothing more than to sink my teeth into her firm flesh. Rawr. But let's forget about that altogether. It would be rude to just bite her in the butt.

"Yeah, you must have better balance than I do. If you all don't mind, I shall stick with my ugly boots." I send them an affectionate look. "They have served me well."

Leliana glares at my footgear. "I'm sure they have, but they do not please the eye. Tell me, do your lovers enjoy the sight of these muddy atrocities on your otherwise lovely feet?" she asks innocently.

"I… What?" My cheeks begin burning. "I don't know, I've never asked. Furthermore, I don't keep my shoes on in bed. Do you?"

"Sometimes." The Orlesian wiggles her eyebrows. "Some enjoy that, you know."

I shrug. "I guess that as a professional seductress, you would know." Come to think of it, Leliana in my red nightie, with those shoes on? Sweet Maker, _yes_.


	10. Perfect Strangers, Pt 1

Ha! Shale looks wonderfully ridiculous with all those bags hanging off her arms and neck. She's still complaining about those shoes of hers taking three days. Leliana found two more gowns that she absolutely _had_ to have, Morrigan thought a mere five should suffice and even Wynne managed to dig up something to her liking. Very practical and not sexy at all (which makes me suspect it doesn't belong in _Frederick's Sexy Sundries_), but very nice quality. As for myself, well, yeah... Let's say it's a good thing I don't have to carry all this crap myself. Now here's hoping that for the time being, I can store it somewhere in the arl's home. I'm happy Frederick was so madly infatuated with Wynne, though; he gave us an enormous discount. That made quite a difference.

After buying three complete sets of armour – two leather, one metal – from a master blacksmith (only two grapes shy of a full fruit basket) and his surly assistant, my purse was a good bit lighter. Then came the bakery, oh dear. I'll be tasting chocolate whenever I belch for a month to come. Sten is going to love the cookies I got him. An assortment of flavours, even savoury ones. A collection of stinking Orlesian cheeses for Alistair, a leg of mutton for Stubbs from the butcher's. In short, we bought everything but the kitchen sink. Had I need of that, I would have bought it as well. I bet Collin is going to look very handsome in his new clothes. Oh, I can't wait to see him again!

It's a shame really… Wynne's age is showing itself; she is yawning and constantly nodding off. I suppose that after these drinks, she will be retiring to bed. This is such a nice place. _The Gnawed Noble_. I wonder how they came up with that name. Very appropriately, there are a few people here who look like they are part of the nobility. Maybe they are here for the Landsmeet? Meh, I'll chat them up later. This is my time off. Fuck working.

"I must say, I've had a…" Yawn. "A lovely time," Wynne says, barely able to keep her eyes open.

"There, there, old woman, 'tis clearly past your bedtime." Morrigan pats her shoulder with mock concern. "You should retire."

This time, the senior member of our group makes no biting remark. "Indeed it is and indeed I should. Let me finish my ale first." There it goes, in one big gulp. "Ah, not as good as Oghren's brew, but it hits the spot."

"I prefer the mead," says the witch, her voice suddenly slurred. "Oh, bother. I have had enough." She rises and offers Wynne her arm. "Come, old cat, we must lean on one another for safety and stability. I wish to leave before I incur a painful headache."

"Aw, but I would like to stay." Leliana sighs. "Don't you wish to stay also, Astoreth?"

Hmm… "I _am_ having a good time, yeah."

"If the Grey Warden and the sister decide to remain here, I shall escort these two drunkards back to the mansion," Shale offers helpfully. No doubt she's had it with our little trip and all the stuff she is carrying.

"I am not drunk." Wynne shoots the golem a half-hearted glare. "Morrigan is, though."

Morrigan harrumphs. "I am not! Not yet." Giggle. "Perhaps a little."

"Time for you ladies to sleep it off." I wave them goodbye, as does our bard. "We will see you tomorrow at breakfast." The three trudge away. That leaves only us two.

Leliana chuckles: "Or lunch, depending on how red we shall be painting this town."

"I'm thinking… burgundy." That's a pretty shade of red. "How about you?" Am I taking this too literally? I must be on the way to getting drunk myself.

"You are very strange sometimes, but I like the way you think." The bard clinks our cups together, chuckling heartily. "Shall we have another drink or two, then see what else there is to do around here?" She gasps. "Perhaps we can go dancing! Oh, I haven't danced in ages…"

I make a face. "I don't dance."

"Why not?" She bumps her shoulder against mine. "It is so fun and relaxing. You should try it sometime."

"Oh well, if you're willing to teach me, I-…"

"Ladies?" Suddenly the waitress is at our table, setting two spindly glasses with colourful drinks in front of us. Hee... Those are so pretty. "From the gentleman at the bar." The young woman points towards a tall, good-looking fellow, who raises a trembling hand and smiles shyly. He is blushing like crazy. Have I seen him before? Maybe. We see a lot of people.

Leliana smiles, eyeing the sweet-looking concoctions rather greedily. "How kind of him."

"Oh my goodness, he's _adorable_." Eep, so cute. I just want to hug him, and pet him, and love him forever. And perhaps do a few naughty things as well. Rawr.

Meanwhile, the gentleman has slowly and hesitantly made his way to our table. "Hi," he almost whispers, a quiver in his voice. "How, uh, how are you doing?"

"Very well, cutie." His awkward chuckle at my compliment makes me smile. I slide onto the chair beside mine and pat the empty one between Leliana and myself. "Have a seat, won't you?"

"Oh, thanks..." Eyes darting to and fro, he sits himself between us, with lots of noise and stumbling. I make sure my leg is closely nestled against his. Not even Alistair blushes as much as this guy.

Leliana turns to the young man, a radiant smile on her face. "Welcome." She gestures to the waitress for a tankard of ale. "What is your name, my darling?" Her voice is kind, laced with a hint of curiosity and seduction. We're about to see the bard at work, methinks.

"I, uhm, m-my name is George." Nervously the lad fidgets, taps his long fingers on the table. "What are you called?" He looks at the both of us in turn, for only a moment. His eyes stay downcast. Pity, because they are a very nice shade of blue.

"I am Leliana, my dear." She gently cups her fingers to his chin and lifts it, making it difficult not to look right at her. Why on earth would anybody want to avoid looking at her beautiful face? "Don't be afraid of us. We don't bite."

"Not very hard, anyway," I add cheerfully, patting the boy on the leg. "Call me Aster." 'Astoreth' is such a mouthful; I'm not sure what possessed whoever named me. Oh, this poor man – his frame looks, and feels, rigid. "Just relax; have some ale." I watch him chug down the contents of the tankard that has seemingly come to our table by way of magic. "There, that's better. Now then, George, why don't you tell us what you do for a living?" Hey, I still have my dainty drink. It's even sweeter than it looks.

George wipes a bit of wayward foam from his mouth. "Oh, well, I'm a baker." He looks at me, studies me intently. "Hey, weren't you in the bakery today?" Leliana gets the same treatment. "Yeah... You had this man in stone armour with you and you bought almost everything I had on hand, am I right?"

Oh, so I have seen him before. "That was you?" Huh. No idea he was this cute.

"Yes, I look different when I'm not covered in flour," he chuckles. The man is a mind reader, clearly.

"Well, you clean up nicely." The bard leans forward, tossing back her russet locks. She curves an elegant hand around the foot of her glass. Every time I'm surprised at how seductive this woman can be, if she sets her mind to it. At other times, nobody even seems to notice how beautiful she is.

"Heh, thanks..." Another shy smile appears on our guest's face, before he fixes his gaze at something interesting in the distance. Once again his fingers are rapping a quick march on the table. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ nervous."

Mmm, but I love the cute, shy ones. "Why is that?" My first instinct is to snuggle up close to him, but no doubt that will only worsen his shyness. "You weren't nervous in the bakery at all." I remember him being all smiles and very efficient in helping his customers.

"That was work," he says quietly. "This is different." The fidgeting and tapping continues, now with some throat clearing added.

Leliana fires off another radiant smile. "I have always been curious as to how bread is made. Perhaps you could enlighten me?" She looks at him in expectation.

Her question is a move of sheer brilliance, for a twinkle appears in the young man's eyes and his earlier timidity vanishes into thin air. "Well, the trick is to have the best flour you possibly can. And that, of course, comes from the best possible grain, so then..." George launches into a speech about the technicalities of baking bread that doesn't interest me much, to be honest. Leliana, on the other hand, looks like she's hanging on his every word. "I tell you, nothing beats the smell and taste of freshly baked bread," he concludes.

"Mmm, slathered with butter." Now that is something that interests me: fresh bread with a good, thick layer of butter. Maybe some cheese too, but that's not vital. My stomach starts growling.

Our bard, ever the sweet tooth, is licking her lips over: "Raspberry preserves. That's what I like on my bread. And it is simply _divine_ on a croissant!"

"I tried selling those too, but they never really caught on." George shakes his head. "My customers called them frilly and pretentious Orlesian nonsense, they did. Can you believe that? Barbarians!"

I shrug. "It's understandable. After all, a croissant is delicious, but it isn't very substantial." I daresay there is more air in there than there is dough. "The people here are looking for good sustenance. They work very hard."

"Eat to live, eh?" The baker laughs. "I live to eat, as you can probably tell." He pats his belly, which is on the pudgy side. I think that only makes him cuter, though. Washboard abs are dead sexy, but I have nothing against a round tummy. That would be hypocritical of me. "You don't get to be this size by eating sensibly."

"Aw, your tummy is adorable." Like the unadjusted person that I am (I blame it on spending most of my life up in some tower), I'm rubbing it as if I have never encountered a stomach before. "Come, Leliana, you have to feel how soft he is!"

She does the same as I, but with more restraint. "How comfortable it must be, to rest upon this," she says with a wink.

The suggestive quality of this comment is not lost on our handsome guest: his blush returns with a vengeance. "I... I don't even know what to say to that," he chuckles. "Uh, thanks for the attention?"

"You're very welcome." My hand still on his belly, I peck him on the cheek. My, my, he appears to be burning. "You are so adorable; I could just eat you up." And he smells great too; like bread, which isn't all that surprising.

"Please don't eat me." George whimpers in mock fear. "I enjoy life too much!" He looks at me, smiling. "You know, I'm glad I came here to talk to you. You girls are very pleasant."

Now it is my lovely friend's turn to press a light kiss to his cheek. "As are you, my dear. What prompted you to come to us?"

"Uhm..." He signals with his eyes to a table close to the bar and sighs. "My mates made me." A group of young men is sitting around aforementioned table; some of them are watching us openly, some of them are pretending not to. "They're always pushing me to talk to women."

"I don't think there is any shame in being shy." This time I do nestle up to him. "It is part of your charm. And if you don't like talking to women, feel free not to." Hmm... Let's give those boys a proper eyeful. I grab George's arm and drape it around my shoulders; Leliana promptly does the same. "This isn't so bad, is it?"

He shakes his head. "No, not at all." By and by the stiffness in his posture lessens. "I could get used to this." He starts looking around like he owns the place and I can hear wolf whistles from his mates. Bet they are mighty proud of him right now.

"So could I." Leliana has cuddled up to our newfound friend, her arm around his waist. "This is more comfortable than my bed at the mansion!" She gives a little delighted sound.

"Mansion?" George gives the both of us a strange look. "Are you noblewomen, or something?"

I can't help but laugh at that. Me, a noblewoman... Preposterous. Leliana, maybe. She has a rather noble, elegant air about her. "No, we're adventurers, but we're staying with a nobleman at the moment." I don't want to think about the mess that brought us here. Get out of my head, stupid Landsmeet. You too, Loghain. Apparently my hand has been wandering without my knowledge, because I encounter a very prominent bump and hear a surprised yelp. "Oops, I'm sorry, that was an accident, I swear." How rude of me.

"Well, I uh, can't say I really mind all that much." The baker looks redder than ever. He looks away, chuckling awkwardly.

If that isn't an invitation, I don't know what is.


	11. Perfect Strangers, Pt 2

"That's nice to hear." I lay my hand on his erection, squeezing. Then stroke it, with a touch as light as air. The way he reacts, like it's something entirely new. "Do you mind?"

"No." He all but moans the word. "But, here?" His fingers grab a firm hold of my shoulder; he is squinting, doing his best not to close his eyes, I think. His breathing comes in short, ragged gasps.

"Yes, right here." My hand continues its ministrations. "You can always tell me to stop." Something tells me that he won't. Perhaps it's the twitching of his stiff cock.

"No, no, do carry on..." The man makes a sound halfway between a groan and a chuckle.

Leliana utters a throaty chuckle, her eyes glittering. "My friend, you are so mischievous." Then her eyebrows shoot up and her smile widens. "But of course I already knew that." Oh yeah, that little incident when I was under the table. Good times... Before long, her hand joins mine. "You are very well-endowed," she purrs into George's ear.

His immediate response is to grit his teeth and dig his fingers deeper into my shoulder. It kind of hurts, but he would have to rip off my arm to make me stop. "Maker's breath! You're too kind," he groans. As our hands disappear down his trousers, his face turns even more strained. Ah, this velvety feeling... I love it. And Leliana is right: this thing is plenty big. Nice. My hand glides up and down his length, while my friend toys with his family jewels. We make a good team.

"Can I get you anything?" It's the waitress. I hadn't even bothered to check whether or not anybody was watching, but it seems that she at least hasn't noticed a thing. She is giving us a sunny smile.

Without taking my hand off the baker, I return that smile and say: "Oh yes, thank you, I think I'll have another one of those whatzits." And by whatzit, I naturally mean one of those sweet, colourful drinks.

"The same for me, please." Leliana turns to George. "What about you, my dear?" The way she's smirking is almost diabolical. I like this girl better and better.

"Ale would be just lovely." The man's voice is tiny and choked. This is hilarious, I have to say. Not that I'm only doing this for giggles; I truly and sincerely enjoy pleasing a man. He _seems_ to like it, at least. When the waitress has left, he sighs: "Is this real life?"

I blow warm breath into his ear, making things even worse. "Could just be fantasy."

"But it is real," our favourite bard adds. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, you know, two women I've never met before are playing with my bits in a public place." Stifled groan. "That is the stuff of wet dreams, you know."

The waitress turns up again, and we all try to maintain a semblance of normalcy. "Here you are." She sets the drinks on our table and tucks her tray under her arm. "Now, could you all do me a favour and try not to get any cum on my furniture? I've only just waxed it, you see." The request is posed in a perfectly normal, conversational tone, like she sees it every day. Perhaps she does. "Stains terribly, that does."

"We will be careful," Leliana assures her. The bard doesn't even bat an eyelash, while I'm sure I am as red as a beetroot. We're lucky she doesn't just throw us out, never to let us in again.

"Much obliged." The young woman nods and then turns to respond to a desperate cry for ale from another table: "Yes, I'm coming." She looks at George, bursts out laughing. "And I'm not the only one!" What a comedian. Still laughing, she runs off.

The baker pushes his face into the side of my neck. "She's not wrong, you know." Feeling his mouth move against my skin sends chills down my back.

"Mmm, I can tell." Licking her lips, Leliana winks at me. "Not much longer now." Her hand creeps up and her fingers close around mine. "Shall we do this together, dearest?" she asks sweetly, her eyes gleaming with a feverish intensity.

"My, you are full of brilliant ideas." And so our hands, moulded into one, glide up and down his throbbing shaft. "You like this, don't you, handsome?" His only answer is a half-happy, half-desperate whimper and more vehement throbbing.

My friend grins. "Now, my darling, try to look as normal as you possibly can." I'm not quite sure whether we're torturing or pampering this poor soul.

"Believe me, I'm trying." George, meanwhile, seems to have developed a twitch in his left eye. His face frozen mid-twitch, his entire body becomes stock-still; even his breathing seems to have stopped. The throbbing in his organ is the sole indication of his climax. Leliana and I slow our strokes, until the palpitations have died down. Only then does George blow out a long breath. "Ho, _damn_!"

I hand him my handkerchief. "Here, clean yourself up with this."

"Thanks." Blushing as red as a tomato, he unabashedly wipes himself down. "Uh, I'm sorry. It's got a bit dirty." My dainty, lacy hanky has become a wet, wrinkled rag. I don't really want that anymore.

"You know what, why don't you keep it?" I rise from my chair, laying a hand on the man's shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. "Thanks, handsome, it's been fun."

My companion even bends down to kiss him on the cheek and hug him as if they've known each other for ages. Her smile is more radiant than ever. "Thank you very much for the drinks, my darling, you have been very sweet." She moves beside me and loops her arm around mine. "We must take our leave, but please enjoy the rest of your evening."

A goofy grin on his face, our new friend waves us goodbye. I can almost feel his gaze setting my backside on fire as I'm settling our tab at the counter; I bet it's no different for Leliana. "Well, that was amusing, wasn't it?" I say dryly, like I give handjobs to guys I don't know all the time. Which I do not, honest. Whatever possessed me to do this, I don't really know. If I had to guess, it's partly because I'm a bit of a whore and partly because he was really cute and seemed like he would enjoy something like that.

"I have had a marvellous time of it." The bard smiles at the spectacle George and his friends are making; he is sitting amongst them, blushing like mad, while they cheer and congratulate him. Aw, isn't that cute? It looks like we have all had fun. "Do you think we shall ever see him again?"

"I hope so; he was nice." Not to mention that he bakes a mean chocolate cake. And so the _Gnawed Noble_ is behind us. "Now what shall we do?"

Leliana hums in thought. "Oh, I know!" She snaps her fingers. "I encountered a wonderful park, with the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen." Grabbing a firm hold of my hand, she begins pulling me along. "You will love it, come."

* * *

_On a long holiday right now. Not much time to write._


End file.
